Gemma Constantine
by Yarghish
Summary: Spinoff of Hellblazer.
1. The Game

"Magic's a dirty game"

That's what her Uncle John used to always tell her – Hell, that's what everyone used to tell her. But… she was fascinated by it, she was drawn to it, she craved it… one could even go as far as to say she was addicted to it. She always thought she was told that 'cos her Uncle was too much of a prat to bother to show her the ropes and couldn't possibly taint his cold, man of mystery reputation.

But, no, that wasn't it at all – it was because magic is a dirty game. A dangerous one. And being her stupid, arrogant self, couldn't get that in her head until she walked in on her father strangling her mother to death, her father committing suicide, and then both of their souls being damned to Hell – all within the span of about two days. All because of her Uncle John and his ties to magic. All because of magic is a dirty game.

It's been about five days now, and all of that has left her cold, hungry, unstable, and homeless. Angie Spatchcock, Uncle John's latest girl friend, offered to look after her, but Gemma would have none of the charity bollocks. 'Course, thinking back, that was a stupid idea.

The only thing she had now was her red scarf, a old, ugly brown jacket her parents bought her last Christmas, and a pack of Silk Cuts she was able to swipe off of Angie as well as a black lighter that she acquired in the same manner. Gemma had been wandering though the ally ways of London, living off what little scraps of food she could find or share with others.

"Yer in me spot" A slimy, skinny, old man in rags said, towering Gemma

"'S that right…" Gemma yawned, sitting up against the side of a dumpster

"Ya"

"Hate to be your cack luck then, div" Gemma stated, wrapping her scarf around her tighter and rolling over

He walked away mumbling something to himself. Gemma woke up with the sun – truth was, she hasn't been able to sleep much. As her dreams were haunted by memories of her parents, of when she was a child, and of when she actually had something decent to eat. Like usual, she dug through the nearby trash cans and streets for today's paper – like usual, nothing really caught her eye – except for one small article, which was about a paragraph in length. It was called "Paddington Homeless Slayings" – it didn't give much details about it, as really, who cares about them?

It intrigued her…and if it'd take her mind off of her parents, then why not? First things first, though – she had to get to know the organization that the Paddington homeless had formed. Every place had it – she guessed people just felt more secure when they thought they had people to depend on.

Gemma has had her ear to the ground long enough to know where the core members of his organization slept and lived – an old beat up, abandoned house on Gardens street.

"Somethin' I can help you wit, luv?" A kid, around the age of 16 said, sitting on the steps of the house with a vodka bottle in his hand

"Actually, mate, there is" Gemma said, flashing a smile "Is the master of this soddin' lovely establishment 'ome?"

"'N who might you be?"

"Homeless" Gemma answered

The kid looked her up and down before shrugging and saying:

"So?"

"I've got'a pack've Silk Cuts"

The inside of the house looked exactly like she thought it would – pretty shitty. The house was packed pretty full of people – every wall had at least one person sitting up against it. It didn't' take her long to find where the 'leader' of this place was – it was the nicest room, with the most sound coming from it, and with the most people in it.

"New blood, eh?" A man sitting in a ripped up leather chair asked as Gemma entered the room

"Mm" Gemma nodded

His name was Todd Gratter – seemed to be in about his mid 20's, short brown hair, kinda skinny. He was the person Gemma had been looking for – the head figure of all this.

"Todd, I assume?" She asked, sitting down on a beat up sofa

"Am I that famous?" Todd laughed, rubbing his head

"'Course" Gemma flattered

"Who are you then, lovely?"

"Gemma" She smiled

"Gotta last name?" He asked, standing up and walking towards her

She thought for a moment – she wanted to say 'Constantine' right off the bat, but fuck, she didn't want to associate herself with that bastard. However, he had a reputation in London, so it wouldn't hurt.

"Constantine" Gemma forced herself to say

"Con—as in, John Constantine?" Todd asked, excited as all Hell "I… I'n't know he had a daughter!"

Daughter? That pissed her off beyond belief. She thought about kicking the Hell out of him for a moment, but regained her wits and knew blowing up wouldn't help her at all.

"Niece" She corrected, concealing her anger "His bloody niece"

And that is all she really needed to gain his trust. 'Course, it also meant she had to sit there and list to his inane babbling and ranting about how he aspired to be a great magician like her Uncle. Going on and on about crap like summonings, séances, curses and the like. Was she this annoying to her Uncle? As right now, she'd rather be eating nails than listening to all this. But, finally, after going on for hours, he seemingly finally asked her a question that wasn't related to her Uncle.

"By the way… is there somethin' you 'anted?"

"Hmm? Oh" Gemma yawned after hours of zoning out "Actually, it's about those slayings… I'm a bit curious"

"I know a lot about that, actually" He smiled

"Great. Where 'ave the slayings been takin' place at?"

"Hyde Park, at night, 'ostly" He answered

"Of fucking course…" Gemma moaned "Where at in that huge bloody park?"

"Northern part" He nodded "Plan on investigating, don't you? You're a Constantine after all"

Gemma sighed. She knew the next thing out of his mouth would be:

"I'm coming with you"

And she was correct.

"No sodding use sayin' no, I bet" She moaned, standing up

This was going to be a long night. It didn't take long for them to get to Hyde Park, especially with Todd knowing every short cut and the like. Gemma really had no idea what she was actually searching for – or Hell, why she was even gave two fucks about the problem. They slinked through the shadows, watching the groups of homeless people, but keeping their distance. And, after about twenty minutes of walking through the park they heard the scream. The two darted in the direction of the scream.

"Fuck me…" Gemma grunted as she watched a huge, slobbering, red demon with two heads, one of a goat and one of a rabbit, rip a homeless man apart, the goat head eating its arm

"Christ! No!" Todd shouted, jumping back, falling on his ass

"Shut—"

Before Gemma could finish, the demon was already towering over the two.

"You…" The rabbit head said, in a voice that sounded like someone gurgling rocks, pointing at Todd "Is… reason… we's…. here…"

It didn't take more than a moment for it to click with Gemma. The little tosser had botched a summoning. Out of all the stories her Uncle John had told her, the summonings were usually the ones to end the worse.

"On what terms are you bound to this plane?" Gemma asked, lighting up a Silk Cut

Christ, she even surprised herself on how calm she was able to stay in this situation. Due to this calmness, she was able to think – and quite fast. She leaned up against a huge tree, and took a bobby pin off her pants and began carving into the tree whilst facing the demon.

"Contract… soul… for power…" It said, pointing to the crying Todd who was laying on the ground, scared out of his mind

"Little wanker fucked it up, didn't he?" Gemma asked, continuing to dig into the tree

"Yes… he gave up… half way…"

"Then, what's the problem? Just piss on back to Hell"

The long pauses between the beasts speech helped greatly. The writing on the tree was done, now she just had to do the hardest part. She took her lighter and unscrewed the bit on the bottom that allowed one to refill the oil in it behind her back, going slowly so the demon wouldn't notice.

"I… must… collect on… a pact…. made…" The rabbit head explained

"Interesting"

It wasn't really. She knew all of this – as it was basic stuff. But she just needed to keep the demons attention long enough to finish what she was doing. She began to spread the lighter fluid onto the cuts in the tree. Luckily for Gemma, the demon had just fed – so it was quite tame, now thinking only of collecting on the contract.

"Well, then, mate, what'd happen to be your name?" Gemma asked the demon

"…"

It might've been stupid, but it knew giving its name to someone gave that someone a certain amount of power over it.

"C'mon, me and Todd here are… lovers" She said, almost gagging on her words "As such, I'n help you to.. collect" She bluffed

It stared at her for a moment, giving what little thought it could.

"Gwhoolon" The rabbit answered

That was the last bit she needed. She pricked her finger with the bobby pin and quickly wrote it's name on the tree, in the middle of all the symbols she had sloppily scratched into it.

"Well then, Gwhoolon, it's time for you to piss on out of here" She grinned

She quickly took her cigarette from her mouth and lit the lighter fluid on fire, igniting the symbols on the tree. The demon let out a loud howl as it was sucked into the tree, it's two heads appearing drawn on the tree. It was a bounding spell – her Uncle talked about using it once against some ghost, she just modified it a bit.

"C'mon, get the bloody Hell up" Gemma shouted, looking down at the babbling Todd

"Did… did you get rid of it…?"

"Yeah, mate. I am a Constantine after all" She smiled "Now fuck off"

Yeah. She was a Constantine alright.

Thinking back to it all as she walked the streets, it was a pretty stupid thing to do. She should've just ran – it would've been content with devouring Todd once it became hungry again. The sodding thing could've snapped her neck at anytime. Her Uncle was right.

Magic is a dirty game. But it's a Constantine game.


	2. Doris

Issue Two: Doris

Gemma had sorta lost her place in the world. Before, she knew what her purpose was – to piss off her parents. Don't do magic? She began chasing after her Uncle John. Don't date that boy? She'd shag the boy. Don't stay out after 11? She ran away. Still, no matter what she did, she always had a place at home.

But, now what? She no longer had any parents to rebel against. The only thing she had left was magic. After her parents died, she had lost all motivation to even live – she just wandered around the streets, sleeping in the nearest alley. But then Gwhoolon happened.

It was like a moment of clarity.

Facing a demon that could've easily ripped her limb from limb, she just smiled, lit up a ciggy, and smooth talked the demon, whilst conducting the plan she had thought of within a seconds time. Sure, after she walked off all high and mighty in front of Todd Gratter, she threw up, once how dangerous what she did was finally sunk in.

But, never the less, she loved it. It was like an incredible high. For the first time in awhile, she felt motivated. Motivated to live, and to help the sodding prat who had caused it all.

But, that was two days ago. Now, she was somewhat back on her feet, back to her petty thief games – stealing wallets from people after casually bumping into them, and the such. It was making her enough to rent out a room in a run-down hotel in Portobello, in west London.

Right now, she was about to walk into some generic, corner street pub.

"Aye" The old, female, obese-looking bar tender called out as Gemma entered

"Mm" Gemma smiled and nodded

She looked around – there was only one other person there aside from the bar tender and herself, some old wanker at the counter. She thought of just ordering a drink and sitting at a table somewhere far away from him. But then she remembered something her Uncle once told her:

"Don't pass up a chance to arse around with someone. With any luck, 'e may be the next Crowley… or a shape-shifter wanting to dine on your inners. The former being the worst, really."

So, with a sigh, she sat next to him. He was an old, bald man, but he kept well in shape, so it seemed.

"'Ello" Gemma said

"Hmm?" The old man responded, seemingly surprised anyone even acknowledged his existence

"What'll it be, luv?" The bartender asked

"Guinness" Gemma responded "S'what the problem?" She asked, turning her attention back to the old man

"You haven't the time nor patience, girlie"

"Oh? Try me then, mate"

It started decades ago. Back when he was 20, back sometime around 1936. He was still living with his mother, who he loved deeply. He had met a woman named Doris. The two hit it off quickly, and within months, fell in love. Doris, luckily enough for him, didn't care that he still lived with his mother and had no job.

By the age of 21, the two had been going out for about 8 months. By then, Doris had been talking about him moving out of his mothers, and getting a job. Feeling like the helpless whelp that he was, he decided to join the British Army and help with the war. It was hard to part from her, but he knew that in order to change himself for the better, he had to do it. So, in 1937, he entered the war.

It was hard. Some of the hardest shite he ever had to put up with. He never once complained, however. He wrote to Doris every chance he got, and she'd write back every chance she got. It was a steady chain, about two letters from each of them about once a week. But, once his training finished, the letters became less and less frequent. As now, he didn't have much time to write – as it was a bit hard to fight those bastard commies and write love letters at the same time. Still though, he made sure to get her at least a letter to her once a month.

But, that only lasted until 1940. After that, the letters stopped altogether. However, luckily (or unluckily, depending on how you look at it, really), he was wounded a two years after and was sent home. He returned home to find that the world had changed whilst he was out – and his mother had died whilst he was off fighting sometime in the past two years, he, himself, had changed during his leave as well, but still, Doris loved him anyway. Within a year of his return, they wedded.

He beat her at least once every day. Giving her everything from a black eye to a broken arm. No one knew, of course, as the old bloke had no friends, really. This continued on for years, up until the pair turned 70. Fucking 70. And every day she put up with it, thinking, or Hell, perhaps knowing, that the person she fell in love with was still in there somewhere.

One, day, though, he went off. Over the stupidest of shit. He asked what was for dinner and she responded "Why don't you think of something to eat yourself?" – she didn't even say it in a harsh way. But more of a "what would you like?" way. But that's all it took for him.

He beat her half to death – into a coma, which she still resides in now in a nearby hospital.

And then he shot himself.

If it weren't for neighbors hearing the gunshot, no one would've ever found the beaten and broken Doris, or the dead body, either.

Gemma put out her 5th Silk Cut and finished off her 7th glass of Guinness.

"This is the part where I close me eyes to think of the shit you just told me, then open'm, and find that you've disappeared, proving that you're a ghost, innit? You'll leave something behind that I'm 'possed to go and give Doris to show that you're all better"

"Something like that, girlie" He smiled

"Well, that ain't gonna fucking happen. Because I bloody well hate you"

"…" The old man stared at his beer

"You're a cowardly prick.

You see, you old bastard, I used to know a prick like you. Not as big of a prick as you, mind, but still a prick none the less. He was a friend – no, bugger it, no used lying to a ghost, who are you gonna tell? He was my father.

Tony Masters was his name. I bet you two'd get along well.

You came back from the war the way you did because you no longer had anyone to boss you around, give you fucking orders. And you couldn't live with that, could you? Before the army, it was your mum who'd tell you what bloody pants to wear, and in the army, it was whoever the Hell you served under.

And it fucking scared you into the bastard you became. You took that fear and unleashed it on your wife Doris 'cos she didn't control every detail of your life – she wanted to be your sodding equal. But fuck all if you'd have that, eh?

With my father, he turned to religion to guide him by the hand all his friggin' life. He was a confused, scared, wanker just like yourself. If his religion didn't have the answer to his problem, he was a lost little twat. Luckily, though, me mum, Cheryl wasn't the sissy. She took control, and wasn't afraid of her husband – she was the head of the house. Great person, she was.

One day, though, me fathers blind following of his religion finally caught up to him. And he killed me mum, 'cos a false angel told him to. Then he tried to kill me. But he regained his fucking senses and finally saw how big of a prick he's been – took the cowardly way out, and bloody well killed himself." Gemma coldly explained to him and then lit up another Silk Cut

"…"

"Yeah. So, bugger that. If you want to show her how you've changed back, then you go fucking tell her yourself"

"Thank you…" The old man said, getting up from the stool


End file.
